thearena | (no subject)

Who| Perry, Jet, Chaud and (eventually) Albert
What| Jet and Chaud have an unfortunate run-in with Perry and his sharp knives, Albert arrives in time to find the mess.
Where| Floor 2
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Blood, violence, etc

From the sixth floor Jet and Chaud had been working their way down what was obviously a museum, attempting to find something useful to them and not having much luck. They'd succeeded in avoiding anyone they didn't want to run into between darting behind corners and keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen, but it was only a matter of time before their luck would run out. And neither of them were armed.

It was clear this wasn't some fake set-up, they were dealing with a very real life or death situation and, as far as they knew, they only had each other as allies and no real method of surviving other than that defensive strategy Jet had railed against in the past.

Now they were on the second floor--much larger than any of the others for the apparent disaster that had once been the third floor, now an intact somewhat-disaster on the second floor--and they were running out of places to find anything they needed. Maybe they needed to be less picky, something blunt and not usually a weapon was just as good as a gun when it came down to it.

Yes, he'd look for something like that and then give it to Chaud. If either of them were going to make it out of this, it should be the teen.

Jet kept to the wall and the shadows as he left the echoing staircase and waited for his companion to catch up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The term of endearment is calming in a way and makes his smile turn more genuine and he returns the tight grip as best he can. He can still feel that guilt gnawing at him, but he tries to push it aside in the face of not being able to change or fix it.

"Shorter. Average height and build. Brown hair. He had a...crowbar and some knives." The murder weapons, though he chose not to mention specifics. He would rather focus on the warm breath on his face. "I hit him. Think I broke some ribs, not sure."

Things were getting fuzzier to try and focus on, so he chose Albert's face and voice and touch instead. He'd rather be thinking about those when his mind inevitably stopped and his eyes failed.

It was selfish and he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it. "Will you stay?"

"Immer." A kiss ghosts against Jet's cheek, Albert knowing Jet won't understand the word but hoping the meaning will be clear regardless. "Until you sleep."

Gentle fingers thread through matted blond hair as Albert tries to find the right thing to say, to do, anything to make this easier on the both of them and to hide how his heart is slowly bleeding out right there along with Jet on the floor. He's glad he doesn't have his cybernetics right now, glad he can at least offer warmth and softness when its needed most. Jet had never even needed touch, though. His warmth came from the soul and it always shined. Still shines, even now. He wonders if he can do the same.

He should try, at least.

"When we're free again, remind me to take you up into the mountains of the German countryside. I know you don't like to go too far from civilization, but the stars there shine so brightly they illuminate everything for miles, making the landscape seem even more vast than in the day. I think you'd like it, even if it's far from a city."

Edited 2014-02-25 02:19 (UTC)

Everything was breaking down into distinct and isolated senses. Before it had been the fire of the atmosphere tearing at his skin or the searing pain of breaking apart piece by piece. Now it was fingers stroking through his hair and the kiss on his cheek, the rhythm of Albert's breathing and the timbre of his voice.

He knows what Albert's doing and he appreciates the distraction of his mind trying to produce what a sight like that would be like. But then his eyes are stinging and there's a lump forming in his throat, choking his voice. Wet warmth trickled from the corners of his eyes and he nodded slightly. "Y-yeah...I'd like that." In that moment, the strength fading from his limbs, he'd never wanted anything more in his life.

Slowly and feeling as though it were made of lead, the blond brought the hand that had been trying to keep his body running up to press his fingertips lightly to Albert's face; the bright red standing out against his partner's pale skin.

Edited 2014-02-25 03:19 (UTC)

He wants to scream, wants to beg and cling and rail that Jet can't leave him again, that he has to hold on, that he promised, but it's a petty feeling and instead Albert just grabs Jet's hand, pressing it into his cheek and trying not to smell the coppery tang of blood that's staining the flesh underneath.

"We could go flying." It doesn't matter that they're not cyborgs right now, it doesn't matter that it's all impossible in the face of death, even if Albert has a small, insane measure of hope that Jet will somehow survive. He's died twice and come back. Surely there's some lucky star protecting him.

But they're not cyborgs now. They're human. And humans are fragile stupid things and there is no benevolent God, there's no miracle of science or religion. There's just Jet going cold and shivery in his arms and taking Albert's will with him.

He holds his partner closer, shielding him bodily from death. "We'll go flying. See the stars up close. I always like when you take me up with you..."

He's trembling. He'd thought it was Jet but it's Albert that's trembling and Jet's face - that weak little genuine smile - goes blurry in his vision. He can't talk anymore, his tongue thick in his mouth and his throat closed for emotion. All he can do is hold Jet's hand tightly to his cheek and repeat the same thought over and over in his head.

Bitte lass mich nicht...

Edited 2014-02-25 03:21 (UTC)

He's glad Albert held his hand there because Jet's fairly certain he didn't have the strength to do it himself. But he could move his thumb a little and brush the pad over soft skin.

"Yeah...we'll go as high as we can...wherever you want. Just us..." He wishes he could bring their lips together one last time or say that thing they'd been so afraid to say that in their decades of being together, they'd only said it twice, but in his indecision on which he wanted more, neither request made it past his lips.

Blue eyes searched silver, hoping he could somehow project what he was feeling through the mechanical mental link they no longer had. But, like stars going out, the light fled from his eyes and took with it the strength in his grip and the smile on his face.

He can tell when Jet's gone. He can pinpoint the exact moment that the light goes out and there's just a body there in his lap, a cold hand on his cheek. Not Jet, just an empty vessel.

Tears fall one by one, big and ugly and silent. He hadn't cried the first time, watching stars fall to earth, nor the second in its grotesque familiarity. But this time is different. This time - maybe because of where they are, maybe because of all that went before, maybe just because he's actually at Jet's side this time - it feels final. Heavy. It bows his spine and presses in on him on the tears keep coming and he feels as if he'll break.

And maybe a little piece of him does. Maybe after all the many many years of pain and suffering and loss this latest is the proverbial straw and there's a little pop the same as all those years ago when he'd lost his world and been rebuilt against his will into a new one he never wanted.

But he can't. Not yet. He can't rest yet. Can't join Jet until he's paid back the favor.

Slowly the tears ebb and Albert's left with just the silence, the overly loud silence that somehow fans the cold flame of his anger that anyone could do this, the icy rage at the hand they'd been dealt that he won't live long enough to dismantle the foundation of but he'll at least see the hand that took Jet and Chaud's lives is dealt justice. Recompense.

There will be hell to pay, and in this Albert will take on the guise of the devil.